


Fighting

by LondonGypsy



Series: 'I Do' [3]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Angry Sex, Developing Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Secret Relationship, as always a bunch of BC's real life family and friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night out with friends, keeping secrets, misunderstandings and a confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting

Alex exhales quietly as he pushes the door to the restaurant open, searchingly looking around. 

"Alex, over here," calls a familiar voice and he waves, trudging over to where James, Tom and Benedict are already seated, each with a drink in front of them. 

"Hey guys, sorry for being late, traffic was hell," Alex says, returning James' tight hug. 

"Should've told you half an hour earlier, huh?" Benedict chimes in as he stands as well, hugging Alex briefly. 

Alex grits his teeth: Benedict's warm and solid and he smells fantastic. It takes all his will power to not bury his face in the crook of his neck or lick the long line of his throat. 

What has he gotten himself into? This is going to be torture. 

"Hi, long time no see," Alex mutters as he regretfully lets go. 

Benedict smiles tightly and only Alex can see the brief spark in his eyes. 

"It's good to be back home," Benedict says, flopping back on his chair. 

"Alex, dear, I haven't seen you in ages," Tom beams, enveloping him in a warm embrace, squeezing him tightly, all the while radiating the bright happiness that seems to be bound to his personality. 

"Life's busy," Alex says, sitting down at the table, waving the waiter. He needs a stiff drink to get through the evening without being all over Benedict. 

"So," he says, leaning back, his thigh brushing gently against Benedict's who's sitting next to him, "what's the plan?" 

Tom smiles, showing off his perfect teeth. 

"Drinks," he announces cheerfully, lifting his glass, "then food, then dancing." 

James cackles. 

"I see you've got the whole evening minutely mapped out." 

Tom isn't the slightest bit fazed by the dripping sarcasm in the other man's words. 

"Yep, call me evening planner de luxe," he grins, emptying his drink with one swig. 

"You might wanna slow down a tad, mate," Benedict says, leaning forward, "we've only just started." 

"Oh hush you. As opposed to others, I can hold my liqueur." 

Benedict glares at him before he shrugs and declines his head. 

"Touché." 

"Well then," James interrupts, "shall we order? To have a base for all the drinking?" 

"Perfect," Tom smiles, throwing his arms in the air to signal the waiter. 

*

The evening proceeds pleasantly with lots of laughter, lots of food and lots of drinks. 

Alex tries to hold back but Tom seems to want to get everyone drunk as quickly as possible and none of them seems to be able to say no to his sunny smile or the puppy dog eyes he pulls when Alex declines the next drink. 

"C'mon, Alex, love, have another," he slurs over dessert, "don't be a spoil sport." 

Alex can feel Benedict's body stiffen next to him at the casual endearment but he ignores it. 

"Fine," he says, quirking a smile at Tom who beams back at him and refills his glass. 

"That's my boy," he mutters, patting Alex's cheek. 

"Tom, you're drunk," James quips, poking at his chocolate cake before he drops the fork. 

"'m done," he declares, leaning back in his chair.

Tom narrows his eyes at him.

"What'cha mean?" 

"What I said, Hiddleston, I'm done. I'm stuffed, it's late and I think I'm headed home. I have a wife waiting for me and I have the feeling she won't appreciate me stumbling in completely wasted." 

Tom glares at him for a moment and then shrugs. 

"Your choice, Rhodes. But you'll miss out on a good night's fun." 

James laughs, pulling out his wallet and throwing a few notes on the table. 

"Call me an old man, but I'd prefer my wife not being mad at me when I go to bed." 

It seems like he wants to say something else but he only shakes his head imperceptibly. 

Nevertheless, Alex is pretty sure he knows how the sentence was about to end.

 _'You're all single, you don't have anyone._ ' 

Which is not true but Alex has no means to say anything so he bites his tongue. 

James says good night and after he's left, silence falls over the table. 

Tom's fist on the table starts the other two. 

"Well then, just us three then." 

Benedict nods mutely, swirling the content of his glass around, staring into the depth of it as if it holds the answer to the universe. 

"Ben, you're so quiet tonight, you okay?" Tom asks, leaning closer and focusing his hazy blue eyes on the man. 

"Yeah, just tired. Jetlag's a bitch," is the muffled answer and Alex flinches at the roughness of the word. 

"Well, I've got just the cure for that," Tom grins, scrambling to his feet, "dancing. Come on, you two, lets go and have some fun." 

They pay and collect their stuff. 

"Hold on, I need the loo." 

With that said, Tom throws his jacket at Alex and vanishes. 

"Hey, you really okay?" Alex immediately asks Benedict who leans against the wall in the foyer. 

He can see that he's not, his jaw is working and the vein on his neck stands out. 

"Just tired," is the snapped reply. 

"Why don't you go home then?" Alex suggests softly, wanting nothing more than to reach out and caress the other man's face and smooth the creases on his forehead. 

"And leave you alone with him?" growls Benedict, something cold flashing in his eyes but before Alex can say anything - he's too shocked anyway - Tom appears at his side, throwing an arm over his shoulder. 

"My boys ready to have fun?," he asks, blind to the tension in the room. 

"Lead on," Benedict says coolly and waits for Tom to slip on his jacket before they leave the restaurant. 

Flashing lights blind them and Alex can hear Benedict groan. 

"Fucking bloodhounds," he mutters under his breath as he flips his collar up. 

"Evening gentlemen," Tom chirps cheerfully, waving left and right as they weave their way through the handful paparazzi waiting outside the restaurant. 

Alex can hear them yell questions but Benedict pushes through them without a word, aggressively waving a cab over and diving inside. 

Tom stands at the curb, patiently answering questions until Benedict has enough. 

"Thomas," he gnarls loud enough for Tom to hear him. 

"Sorry, lads, gotta run," he grins and hops into the cab, ignoring Benedict's scolding look. 

"Where to?" asks the cabbie and Tom gives him the address of a club in Soho. 

He keeps babbling joyfully and doesn't notice the increasing tension in the car: Alex tries to make eye contact with Benedict who just as hard avoids him, staring out of the window. 

When they finally arrive, Benedict darts out of the car and into the club, vanishing inside the dimness. Tom and Alex follow, Tom waving at people he knows - or not, Alex can never be sure with him, he's just friendly to everyone. 

"Come on, mate, I'll get the first round," he calls over the loud music, coiling through the people towards the bar. 

Alex's eyes roam the dance-floor, desperately trying to find Benedict but there's too many people, he can't see him. 

Sighing frustrated he follows Tom and downs the drink that appears in front of him, relishing the burn in his throat. 

"Wanna dance?" Tom asks, his entire body vibrating with barely suppressed energy. 

Alex shakes his head. 

"I'm a terrible dancer," he admits, quirking a grin at the other man. 

Tom waggles his eyebrows.

"I can teach you," he says, his blue eyes blazing even in the dim light.

Alex huffs a laugh. 

"Good luck with that," he says dryly, "my sister tried that once. I think I broke her toes." 

Tom takes an involuntary step back, narrowing his eyes in mock shock. 

"I still need them, big project coming up." 

They laugh together. 

"Well then, you'll excuse me, my feet are getting restless," Tom winks at him and swirls around, vanishing onto the dance-floor. 

Alex leans against the bar, nursing his drink, still searching the floor for any sign of Benedict. 

Then he hears a low laugh that chases a shiver down his spine and he slowly turns his head in the direction. 

Benedict's swaying in sync with the music, his hair tousled, his face flushed and the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up. 

He's laughing again, a booming sound, heard even over the loud bass of the song playing and from his spot Alex can see the deep crinkles around his eyes as he leans closer to the pretty brunette dancing with him. 

Alex can't see her face but her body language tells him everything he needs to know: she knows exactly who she's dancing with. Her small hands flutter around Benedict's lithe figure, wanting to touch but not daring - yet -, throwing her long hair over her shoulder and probably looking up at him from under long lashes. 

Alex can hear her high giggles as Benedict leans closer, saying something to her. 

The sharp sting of his own nails digging deep into the palm of his hands has him look down. His hands are curled into tight fists and he takes a few deep breaths before he's able to release them, flexing his fingers. 

Slowly, almost trance-like, the numbness of his feet registers with his shocked mind, as does the white hot pain in his stomach and his heart. 

He has to force himself to turn away from the spectacle and stares into the mirror opposite him, blind to his own reflection. 

"Looks like our boy is finally starting to enjoy himself." 

Tom's voice next to him startles him but he doesn't turn, he only nods. 

"About time he starts to loosen up, haven't seen him with anyone in ages. Poor Ben needs to get laid," Tom rambles, ordering another drink. 

Alex grits his teeth to keep from commenting, his fingers digging hard into the wood of the counter. 

Sighing Tom leans against the bar, his feet tapping the rhythm of the song. Suddenly he stops, snickers and nudges Alex's side. 

"I think, someone's got his eyes on you," he murmurs conspiratorially.

Alex casts a glance over his shoulder, following Tom's eyeline. 

A tall, handsome young man with a mop of unruly dark hair is watching them curiously. As he sees Alex looking over, he tilts his head and smiles. 

Alex hears Tom laugh lowly. 

"I think I leave you two alone," he says, strolling away. 

Out of the corner of his eyes Alex sees the young man straighten his back and come over. 

Instinctively his gaze strays to where Benedict's still dancing and laughing with the brunette. Somehow he senses that he's watched because he looks up, a flirty smile still on his lips. 

Their eyes meet across the room and suddenly the world stands still. 

Alex winces as the smile on Benedict's face falters, the warmth in his eyes flickers and dies and hard lines appear around his mouth. 

Looking away Alex empties his drink and grabs his jacket. Not looking back he starts walking towards the exit as a hand lowers on his arm. 

"Hey," a dark voice says and as Alex looks up, he sees the young man standing in front of him, smiling openly at him, "care for a drink?" 

Alex shakes his head. 

"No thank you." 

"You're not leaving already?" the man asks, "you just arrived." 

"And now I'm going again," Alex says, for a second feeling bad about his dismissive tone but then he hears Benedict's rumbling laughter again and his stomach turns. 

"Sorry," he calls over his shoulder as he hurries towards the exit, bile rising in his throat. 

He bursts outside, inhaling the cool air eagerly before he strides towards the curb, hailing a cab to take him home. 

He feels sick and he must look it also because the cabbie eyes him carefully.

"No puking in my cab," he grumbles as he hesitantly pulls onto the street. 

"Don't worry," Alex says weakly, leaning back and staring out of the window.  

"That's what they all say," is the muttered reply but Alex ignores him. 

*

He's about to go to bed when the doorbell rings, long and somewhat aggressive. 

For a moment he considers ignoring it, nobody sane would come by his place this late at night but a nagging voice in the back of his head urges him to open it anyway. 

In front of the door stands Benedict, dishevelled and with a burning fire in his eyes that has Alex instinctively takes a step back. 

He's angry, permeating it from every pore and for the blink of an eye Alex is fascinated - he's never seen him like this. But then Benedict's hard stare fixes on him, chasing a cold shiver down his spine.

"What do you want?" he asks tonelessly. 

"Doesn't feel nice, does it?" Benedict grunts, "seeing the one you like flirting with someone else?" 

"Wha... I wasn't flirting with anyone," Alex says defensively, trying to keep his voice down. 

"Oh yes, you were. Getting all cosy and cuddly, thinking I wouldn't see it!" 

Alex takes a step back as Benedict looms over him, radiating a heated fury. 

"You're drunk and make no sense," Alex says weakly, suddenly feeling utterly worn out. 

"I might be drunk but I know what I saw,” Benedict growls. 

"You didn’t see anything," Alex shoots back, his own anger bubbling up, "how could you even? You were busy playing Mr. Moviestar, charming every damn person-" 

Just as he says it he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. 

Benedict growls deeply and pushes Alex back who stumbles against the wall, too shocked to react. 

"Don't you fucking dare," he grits through his teeth, "don't you dare tell me how to behave." 

"And why not?" Alex spits out, fury surging through his veins, "it's not like you care what I say, you basically just called me a liar." 

They stare at each other, Benedict standing only a few inches away from him, lips pressed together tightly, his face pale and hard. 

Straightening his back he turns, grabbing the doorhandle and for a second Alex feels relief flooding his system.

But then Benedict's slams the door shut, heaving a breath as he turns towards him again, fixing his heated gaze on Alex again who can only stare back, motionless.

They stare at each other, neither man moving, the tension between them palpable, like crackling of lightning before a storm.

Suddenly Benedict surges forward, crushing his mouth against Alex's whose hands instantly come up to push him away. But Benedict's too strong for him, trapping him against the wall with his entire weight. 

Alex struggles at the onslaught of his burning lips but then his body reacts, his mind shuts down and his fingers clench into the crinkled fabric of Benedict's shirt. 

The kiss is messy and hard, Benedict's thrusting his tongue relentlessly into Alex's slack mouth, biting at his lower lip, not drawing blood but it's a close call. 

His hands scramble around and then sink into Alex's hair, pulling his head back. 

"I fucking hate you," he snarls, kissing him violently, "I hate that you can make me feel like this." 

Another furious kiss.

"Helpless." 

His tongue sliding in, sucking at Alex's, letting go again. 

"Useless." 

Teeth scraping sharply over Alex's lower lip. 

"Fucking jealous." 

His hands loosen in Alex's hair but don’t let go. 

"Fucking in love with you." 

The last is hissed against his neck and Alex cries out as Benedict starts sucking a mark into the thin skin in the crook of his shoulder, pulling him painfully hard into his arms. 

Dark growls are shaking both men and everything blurs. 

Hands tear desperately on clothes, buttons pop off, lips try to devour, unintelligible words are groaned as newly exposed skin heats up. 

Alex's cock is achingly hard and he yelps as Benedict's erection rubs against him, just as desperate for contact. He's grinding mercilessly against him, panting hotly against his neck, fingertips leaving bruises on his skin. 

Benedict's biting again, muttering inaudibly against his neck, rocking faster against Alex's vibrating limbs, their slickness easing the friction between them. 

Moaning constantly Alex's rutting shamelessly against the other man, chasing his release, not caring for one second about Benedict. 

There's no finesse, no restraints, just an ancient need, so deep and hot it wipes all rational thoughts from Alex's mind.

Slipping his hands over Benedict's back, Alex grabs his bared arse, pulling his against him to get more pressure on his leaking cock. 

They're gasping loudly for air and it takes some time for the uttered stream of words to register through the red fog in his brain. 

"Don't.. ever... again... you're mine... fucking Hiddles and his perfect blue eyes... my Alex... God, yes..." 

Benedict's body tenses and he buries his face in Alex's neck, muffling a harsh cry as he comes violently between their bodies, painting their stomachs with warm slickness.

The heavy shivers shaking his limbs are too much for Alex and he follows, the electric waves of his orgasm washing over him, reducing him to a weak mess in Benedict's arms. 

They stay like this for a while, clinging to each other, their tempers calming like their heartbeats. 

Benedict pulls back, sheepishly looking everywhere but Alex's eyes. 

"'m so sorry, so sorry," he babbles, fastening his trousers and pulling his shirt back down. 

He retreats towards the door and it costs Alex all his strength to reach out and press a hand against the wood, denying Benedict the exit. 

"No, I am sorry," Alex says hoarsely, searching for words and fails. There's only one and he breathes it into the tense space between them. 

"Stay," and like an afterthought, "please?" 

Benedict's hand is on the door handle, his back turned to Alex but he can see his shoulders slump after a very long moment and his hand slips from the handle. 

"How can I? I'm an idiot," he whispers and Alex's heart clenches at the utter defeat in his words. 

He scrambles to his feet, ignoring his wobbly knees and stumbles the two steps to wrap his arms around the man's midst. Benedict tenses and Alex presses his face between his shoulder

blades, instinctively making soothing noises.

"No you're not. I am. I didn't know you'd be jealous of Tom. I mean, really? That man's as straight as they come." 

He can't help the amused tone in his voice but regrets it instantly as Benedict's back stiffens in defence. 

"Shit, sorry. Listen- would you look at me for a second?" 

Benedict shakes his head and Alex sighs. 

"Fine. Look, we're even, 'kay? If I was flirting with Tom, which, for the record, I wasn't, but if you thought that, well... you had your revenge with that brunette." 

Alex can hear Benedict's teeth gritting. 

"It hurt," Alex whispers, no heat in his tone, "so I get why you're so angry." 

He falls silent, giving Benedict a moment to process his words before he continues:

"Now can we forget about it all and go to bed? It's fucking late, I'm exhausted and I'd bet you're too." 

Without waiting for an answer he lets go and stumbles towards his bedroom, shedding his ruined clothes on the way and heads straight for the shower. 

When he comes back out, a towel wrapped around his hip, Benedict is sitting on the chair by his desk, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

"There's a towel by the sink," Alex says grimly and watches as Benedict stands, hesitates and then stalks into the bathroom. 

He closes the door but doesn't lock it which Alex counts as success. He changes into his pyjamas and slips into bed, sighing contently as he stretches. 

Listening to the shower running, he almost dozes off and only Benedict quietly sitting at the other side of the bed makes him blink through heavy lids. 

"I don't have anything to wear," Benedict mumbles, blushing as he glances at Alex and quickly looks away again. 

Alex can't keep the laughter inside and after a moment Benedict also smiles shakily. 

"Come here, you," Alex says lovingly, lifting the duvet invitingly. 

Benedict drops the towel and lays down, stiff on his back with too much space between them. 

Alex sighs and scoots over, resting his head on Benedict's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. 

"Idiot," he mutters endearingly, closing his eyes. 

Benedict's huffed chuckle accompanies him in his dreams. 

 


End file.
